


Christmas with the battered bastards

by 3milesup



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Episode s01e06 Bastogne, Gen, Missing Scene, where jolly old saint luz goes on a mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:55:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23234335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3milesup/pseuds/3milesup
Summary: Luz took any opportunity to try and make the Christmas in Bastogne a little bit merry.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20
Collections: Loose Lips Sink Ships Prompt Meme





	Christmas with the battered bastards

**Author's Note:**

> For a Loose Lips Sink Ships prompt :)
> 
> Many thanks to my dearest friend for encouragement and title inspiration :D  
> ILYSM <3

“Fancy seeing you, Malark, where you going?”

“To Skip and Penk's.”

“Share ‘em, then.” Luz slipped something in his chest pocket, gave it a pat and moved on. Malarkey fished out a mangled half-pack of _Lucky Strikes_.

“Where in hell did you get those?” he called out. He didn’t think he’d see anything else than the _Chesterfields_ until the war was over.

“A Christmas miracle of Saint Luz, if you want,” Luz laughed over his shoulder and Malarkey stared his way as if he indeed saw a mirage, long after the man had disappeared into the mist.

Luz squatted by Perconte’s foxhole.

“Hey, Frank,” he smacked the Italian’s helmet. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

Perco blinked a few times.

“So what?”

“Think again.”

“Still nothin’,” he mumbled around the toothbrush. Luz sighed.

“Well, maybe look into your dollar store and think if someone might need something?”

Frank spat out the toothpaste to voice his objections more articulately, but Luz was having none of it.

“Just saying, it’s your conscience, you gotta live with it…” he shrugged, already heading off. He wanted to make the most out of the unpredictable break in the action.

It took a while to find Joe Toye, but he really cared to get that one done.

He was sitting on a trunk, blanket loose around his shoulders, and stared ahead. Overwhelmed with sudden playfulness, Luz balled the socks up and tossed them at the man; Toye jumped, frantically pulling his .45.

“Whoa-whoa, hold up, cowboy, it’s me,” Luz raised his hands. Not the best idea, admittedly.

“Goddamned idiot,” Toye gruntled, tucking the pistol in the holster. “Whatcha doin’ out here?”

“I could ask the same. I was just looking for you.”

“Nice of you to bother, I’m fine.”

“That’s what I thought. Holding a reservation for someone special or can I sit?”

Toye shifted to make space; Luz straddled the trunk, brushed crystals of snow off the socks and held them out.

“Thought you might use a spare pair.”

"Where'd you get 'em?"

"Do you ask that underneath the Christmas tree? Haven't taken them off a dead man, if that's the problem."

Toye kicked off his boots right away.

“Luz,” he looked up while pulling the dry socks on, stopping for a moment. “Thank you.”

“Merry Christmas, Joe.”

“Yeah. Merry Christmas. Fuck…” Toye shivered as he threw the wet pair around his neck.

“Hey, Joe.”

Something in Luz’s tone made him preemptively roll his eyes, but he arched an eyebrow in silent question.

“Sing something.” That came unexpected. Luz was usually more likely to make fun of Toye’s voice, call his singing the bleating of Irish sheep… He looked absolutely serious. Toye shrugged.

“If it makes you happy…”

“Not just me.”

He bit his lip.

“Alright, damn it, if the Krauts can sing all they want, we can, too. I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places that this heart of mine embraces all day through,” he began and smiled when Babe’s high-pitched voice accompanied him. Some other guys sang along; a distinct South Philly mutter of _“Jesus Christ, we’re all nuts”_ prefaced Bill joining in, too.

_In that small café_

_the park across the way_

_the children's carousel_

_and the chestnut trees_

_the wishing well…_

Luz gulped down heavily and turned away. Tears burned on cold cheeks and he tried hard to hold back the sobs, knuckles pressed to his mouth, not wanting to distract Toye. He couldn’t think of the last time in life he cried.

_I’ll be seeing you_

_in ev’ry lovely summer’s day_

_in everything that’s light and gay_

_I’ll always think of you that way_

He loved those guys with all his heart and wanted so much to find more and better ways to show them… He _knew_ he would be seeing them for the rest of his life: in watches and toothbrushes, in the finest whiskey, in medics, cab drivers, football and box, in names of towns and states… He briefly wondered if Toye ever thought about it, if that was why he held the song so dear.

_I’ll find you in the morning sun_

_and when the night is new_

_I’ll be looking at the moon_

_but I’ll be seeing you._

Would they see another summer? Would they ever see the goddamned sun again?

Would there be anyone seeing _him_ in every little thing, one day?

He snapped as a blanket wrapped around his body and opened his eyes to find Toye on his haunches in front of him.

“Don’t cry, your eyes gonna freeze off,” he said, in his husky voice always on the edge of annoyed, but his look was that of the sad tenderness he let shine through on occasions. Luz choked out a sobby laugh and, what was rare, couldn’t find the words. Toye patted his knee and propped himself up on it, getting to his feet.

“Hey, no,” Luz cleared his throat, but the lump remained, “take that blan--“

Toye dismissed him with a wave as he limped off.

Bois Jacques fell silent again, but it felt less suffocating. Quietude solemn, descending darkness mercifully veiling all the misery.

And if Perconte rummaged through his bag until he found three _Wrigley’s_ gums he’d been saving from the good old days of K rations supplies, and gave two of them to Hoobler and Johnny Martin, saying _“it’s Christmas”_ like it was his idea,

if Malarkey shared the _Lucky Strikes_ with Skip and Penk, who forgot to shake for a moment, taking a draw of fine tobacco smoke,

if Toye climbed over to his fellow Pennsylvanians’ foxhole instead of sulking on his own, continued to softly sing Irish ballads with Heffron, much to despair of the old Gonorrhea squeezed between them, and took his mind off his numbing foot for a while, just as Babe took his mind off Julian,

if Bill eventually had enough of them and went to check on Buck because _“Luz’s right, it’s Christmas, goddammit,”_ and God, was he glad he was there for the man…

…well, Luz wouldn’t know. Back to his foxhole, he was trying to catch a wink, flexing his toes in cold, wet socks, making a mental note to scrounge up a new spare pair as soon as possible, and hugging himself against the cold, because he gave Toye’s blanket to Shifty and Popeye along the way, together with the last little chunk of chocolate that was frozen and had marks of Luz’s teeth all over it but they were beyond happy nevertheless.

Though the silent night was soon to be pierced with shrieks of Harry Welsh, just for a while the battered bastards of Bastogne had a pure, warm feeling of Christmas peace.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I figured the _"I'll Be Seeing You"_ song mentioned in the books as Toye's favorite, was [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ofa8CAQUn4g) (in which case I totally understand him) and found it very fitting...
> 
> Thank you for stopping by, hope you enjoyed!^^
> 
> @3milesup on Tumblr, just in case


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